Codename Files Nos.1, 2 & 3

by Mark Arundel

  ‘If you had done your job then using those men would not have been necessary,’ Grace said. Although her voice was soft, her quick speech did little to hide her irritation. While I considered what those words meant Grace spoke again: ‘This morning, when I first saw you, I had a doubt whether you would do it.’

  ‘Using those men for what?’ I asked, although I already thought I knew for what she was using those men.

  ‘London told me they were sending their “best man”. What’s the point of sending a killer who cannot kill? Perhaps the Circus has gone soft.’

  ‘...the Circus?’ I questioned.

  ‘Yes, some people call it the Circus, you know, from those old spy novels. I quite like the name. It’s both disrespectful and loving at the same time.’ For a second the mental image of Meriwether dressed as a juggling clown and Charlotte hanging upside down as a trapeze artist gave me torment. I banished the images and refocused.

  ‘The two men who followed me this morning and who now have Snowy are somehow in your employ?’ Again, Grace made a scoffing sound and again it annoyed me.

  ‘They were my insurance,’ she said. ‘If it became necessary and if anything went wrong with you then they were my backup.’

  ‘You told them to follow me this morning.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. I told them to observe you and then report. They were not supposed to make contact in any way. They are young, aggressive and uneducated.’ Grace shrugged as if these three adjectives were all the explanation needed.

  ‘Who are these two men?’ I asked. The reason that they had taken Snowy was now obvious to me.

  ‘They are Cariocas from a nearby favela,’ she said. She must have read my expression because she spoke again: ‘Cariocas are people native to Rio and a favela is a slum area. You can see the favela from here. It’s there on the hill at the end of the bay.’ Grace pointed across the beach and the bay to a crowd of low-rise buildings on the hillside.

  ‘How do you know them?’ I asked.

  ‘It is sometimes necessary for me to ask such persons to perform tasks that experience has made them able. A local contact I have introduced me to them.’

  ‘Who’s the local contact?’

  ‘...one from my network, here in Rio. It’s not important who.’

  ‘Why do they work for you?’ I asked.

  ‘I pay them, of course. They wouldn’t do it otherwise.’

  ‘And how much did you pay them to abduct and kill Snowy?’ Grace hesitated and then chose not to answer. I waited but she remained silent. Although she had her eyes concealed behind dark glasses, I could see her mouth the line of which appeared to harden. If any regrets existed, she was keeping them inside. ‘What are the names of these men?’ I asked. Grace hesitated again, but this time, she answered.

  ‘I don’t know their real names, but they call themselves Dodge and Marsh.’

  ‘Why are they American names?’

  ‘It’s popular in the slums to have such names,’ she explained.

  ‘Which is the tall one?’

  ‘He’s Marsh,’ she said. ‘He’s the leader.’ I already knew that, of course.

  ‘Call Marsh,’ I said, ‘and tell him you’ve changed your mind and to release Snowy unharmed.’ Grace remained static. She seemed surprised by my request and then her composure returned. ‘Do it,’ I said forcefully. She ignored me and lifted her drink. Her lips pursed around the straw and she drank. I watched the level of the liquid fall. I waited until she replaced the glass on the table and then I grabbed her upper arm with one hand and pulled off her sunglasses with the other. ‘Do it now,’ I said threateningly. She looked scared. Her eyes were big and pale as if by removing her sunglasses I had somehow removed all the blue. She pulled against my hold, but realising my strength she stopped.

  ‘My arm, it hurts, please let go,’ she said.

  ‘We still don’t know what the police want with Snowy,’ I said. ‘I won’t allow you or the Circus to kill a man who’s helped you because it suits you to do so. I understand that your spy network may be in jeopardy and that it’s important to both you and London, but until I find out more I want Snowy to remain alive.’

  ‘You only met him today. Why do you care?’

  ‘Someone recently told me that espionage is a grubby business and he was right. It obviously doesn’t have any place for loyalty,’ I said. Some of the blue returned to Grace’s eyes. ‘Anyway, I’m on holiday,’ I explained. I could see from Grace’s confused expression, my explanation had not helped.

  Grace tried to free her arm again but without success. I dropped her sunglasses on the table and then lifted her handbag and turned out the contents. Her K106 was there together with items of make-up and all the other things women carry in their handbags. The second Taurus handgun that I had taken from the police officer and given to Grace was also there. I took the opportunity to check the clip. It was full. Grace watched me. I checked the safety was on, replaced it into her handbag and then I picked up the phone. ‘Call him,’ I said. Grace shook her head. I considered my options. It seemed she had made her mind up. I released her arm and she rubbed it while combining a grimace and a pout.

  I now knew the call that I had answered earlier in the hotel when I had had Grace’s phone was from Marsh. I had asked him his name then, but he had not given it to me. Now, I knew what it was. I searched the K106. Grace had it auto set to delete all call history after six hours, so I was still able to find the number. It only rang a couple of times before a man answered.

  ‘Oi,’ he said in a flat rough voice.

  ‘Marsh,’ I said, ‘do you know who this is?’ At the other end, the man was silent. He was probably trying to picture my handsome face and at the same time, rub his stomach where my punch had landed. I wondered whether attempting these two things at once had confused him. Although, I knew from experience that it was dangerous to assume any adversary was not intelligent.

  The man garbled something in Portuguese that due to the heavy accent I failed to understand and then he said, ‘Yes, I know you.’

  ‘Good,’ I said. ‘Grace has changed her mind. She now wants you to release the white man unharmed. Do you understand?’ Marsh was silent. I looked at Grace. She was silent, too. She was watching me calmly. It surprised me a little. I expected her to try to stop me in some way or to protest or shout out so that Marsh may hear. ‘Do you understand?’ I repeated.

  ‘I speak to Grace,’ he said.

  ‘Grace is not here,’ I said. ‘I will get her to call you. Don’t do anything until Grace has spoken to you. Do you understand?’

  ‘When I speak to Grace?’ he said.

  ‘Soon, she will call you soon and tell you to release the white man unharmed. Tell me you understand.’ I heard him breathe in and then he spoke in rapid Portuguese. He was venting his frustration. I asked one more time, ‘Do you understand?’ Marsh ended the call without replying.

  Grace had sat patiently watching me throughout. She was still watching me now. I held her eyes and waited. Most of the blue had returned and a superior sheen gave them an expensive gemlike lustre. ‘That call won’t make any difference,’ she said coolly. I resisted asking her why. ‘Do you know why?’ she asked. Again, I remained mute. ‘You didn’t use the code word.’

  ‘What is it?’ I asked quickly. Grace smiled and made a little laugh.

  ‘That trick won’t work on me,’ she said. ‘Without the code word Marsh will carry out my original instructions. He may delay for a while, but when I don’t call...’ Grace allowed the sentence to hang unfinished. Perhaps voicing the death sentence of an innocent man was too hard or maybe she just considered it impolite.

  When Grace had not attempted to sabotage my call to Marsh, I guessed she had something like a code word in place. ‘What time does the sun go down?’ I asked. Considering what I now knew it seemed to me likely that Marsh and Dodge would wait until after dark before killing Snowy. Transporting someone who can walk is much easier than moving a dead body. I r
easoned they would take Snowy away from the favela to a desolate spot before putting a bullet in his head. This they would do after dark. The phone call I had made to Marsh had simply given me extra insurance over the length of time he would keep Snowy alive. My plan was to get to Snowy before they killed him. Grace was still staring at me. ‘What time does the sun go down?’ I repeated.

  ‘It gets dark around eight,’ she said. ‘Why?’ I checked the K106. The time was six-thirty. It was long enough. I beckoned over the waiter. She walked across and stood beside the table.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ she said. I pointed at the favela on the hillside just as Grace had done.

  ‘What’s the name of that area with the favela?’ I asked. The girl turned and looked even though she must have known where I meant.

  ‘It is named Vidigal,’ she said. ‘Morro Dois Irmãos is the name of the hill. In English, it means Two Brothers Hill.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said and gave her money. ‘This is for the drinks and your tip.’

  ‘Obrigado,’ she said and smiled. She bobbed her head once in appreciation and then left.

  Grace was staring at me again. She had stopped rubbing her arm. Any discomfort she had had she had now forgotten. ‘You’re not thinking of going there are you?’ she said in a disbelieving voice.

  ‘Sure, why not?’ I said. She made that scoffing sound again. It was a very annoying sound.

  ‘...because they will kill you,’ she said with certainty.

  ‘Well, if you won’t call Marsh and tell him to give us back Snowy then it’s the only way I can see of saving Snowy’s life.’ Grace was silent for a moment while she thought.

  ‘You’re crazy,’ she said with undisguised derision. ‘You’ll never do it. You’re just one man. When the police go into a favela after someone they use a whole team of men, armed with assault rifles and backed up by armoured vehicles.’

  ‘I expect they do. They probably film it too and then put it on the television news channels for everyone to see.’

  ‘What if they do? You’re still only one man and they are still going to kill you.’

  ‘Where do you meet Marsh and Dodge?’ I asked.

  ‘I don’t meet them. I speak to Marsh on the phone,’ she said.

  ‘What about the first time? How do you pay them?’

  ‘...at a public place, somewhere like here. I arrange a place and a time, and then I leave the money in a bag for them to walk by and pick up off the table,’ she explained.

  ‘So you haven’t been to the favela to meet them there?’

  ‘No, I’ve never gone there,’ she replied.

  ‘Well, you’re going to go there now,’ I said.

  ‘What do you mean?’ she asked with a trace of alarm in her voice.

  ‘I can’t leave you alone, can I? I can’t trust you. The minute I leave, you’ll call Marsh and then Snowy’s dead before I’ve had a chance to do anything. No, you’re coming with me to the favela.’

  The radiant blue dropped from Grace’s eyes and the line of her mouth hardened. I got the impression she now liked me even less than she did before.

  11

  THURSDAY, 19:10—19:55

  I grabbed Grace by the arm and held her in just the same way as before. Her attempt to run was not difficult for me to foresee and my hand circled her upper arm even before she had lifted her bottom from the seat.

  She made a pained noise and her eyes narrowed with loathing. ‘Let go of my arm,’ she said. It was more a plea than a command. I held on.

  ‘Trying to run is a bad idea,’ I said. ‘All it will do is waste time. I’m faster and stronger than you are. I do have one other alternative and that’s to incapacitate you.’ “Incapacitate” was a good non-specific word that could have many meanings, none of which were pleasant. Grace stopped resisting my hold and frowned.

  ‘Incapacitate me?’ she said.

  ‘Yes, incapacitate you. If I can’t leave you and if you make it too hard for me to take you with me then it’s my only other choice.’

  ‘You wouldn’t do that to me,’ she said, but her voice was unconvincing. Whatever she was imagining that I meant by “incapacitate” it was having the desired effect.

  ‘We both know that I would,’ I affirmed with the best menacing scowl I could muster. Grace’s body slackened in my grip and her shoulders slumped.

  ‘Fine, I’ll go with you to the favela,’ she said and left it at that. I knew, of course, how careful I would have to be with her, but taking her with me was the only option.

  ‘Do you have a phone besides the K106?’ I asked.

  ‘No,’ she said and shook her head. After changing the setting to “silent”, I put her K106 in my pocket but left the second Taurus pistol in her handbag with the safety on. The other Taurus was still in my waistband.

  ‘Collect your things together,’ I said, ‘we’re leaving.’ We stood up and she refilled her handbag. I picked up my own bag and she put her handbag over her shoulder. I took her arm and we left the bar just as any couple might.

  My first stop was the beach shop only a few yards away.

  ‘Why are we stopping here?’ Grace asked.

  ‘There are some things I need to buy,’ I said.

  Although the opening was narrow, due I suspected to the price of beachfront rent, the shop went back much farther than I expected. Keeping Grace ahead of me along the tight aisle helped ensure she was less likely to try to run. To return the way we had come and get back outside would have meant her having to pass me first. Anyway, the prospect of shopping seemed to have taken her thoughts. She was already browsing through the dresses with ease like a professional.

  ‘I’m looking for a t-shirt,’ I said.

  ‘What’s wrong with the one you’re wearing?’ she asked.

  ‘I want one with a funk motif,’ I said. Grace did not ask me why. Perhaps she knew the reason.

  ‘Here they are,’ she said. I chose the darkest colour with the required emblem across the chest.

  We continued walking through the aisles and we carried on shopping. As well as the t-shirt, I bought a pair of dark grey combat shorts that had many pockets, a box of firecrackers, a Zippo lighter and the best clasp knife they had. Grace neither asked about nor commented on any of my purchases.

  At the counter, I paid in cash and then we left the shop with me carrying the items in a plastic bag.

  Outside, I once again took Grace’s arm. I hoped she had given up the idea of running off, but she was difficult to read, so I kept hold of her.

  I led us away from the beach, back in the direction of the hotel to a street I had remembered from earlier in the day. It was long, straight and wide. Tall trees grew from the pavement’s edge like long, bony fingers and the shade they cast dappled the grey tarmac with cool indifference.

  Beside the stone buildings and under the urban canopy, sun-darkened men stood and talked while they waited. Some of them smoked cigarettes and others read newspapers or made phone calls.

  We passed a street side cafe, busy with coffee drinkers and crossed at the corner opposite a jewellery shop that displayed a sales sign advertising big price reductions on gold rings.

  Ahead of us, the parked line of yellow taxis stretched along the street and decorated the kerb like a motor show for cab drivers. The glass and paintwork of each vehicle reflected cleanly in the filtered sunlight, each a symbol of the pride of its owner.

  We walked to the head of this impromptu rank and stopped. The taxi we stood beside was a VW saloon named Santana. Like all the others, it was box-shaped and banana yellow.

  ‘You’re not going to take a taxi?’ Grace said with surprise and a lilt that suggested I reconsider.

  ‘No, we’re going to take a taxi,’ I corrected her. She made a sound with her tongue that displayed her frustration with me. I grinned at her. Before Grace could respond with a disparaging remark about my mental stability, the taxi driver appeared beside us. His short, stocky frame was clad in easy fitting, creased khakis and a colour
ful shirt. He smiled at me happily from around an unlit, half-smoked cigar. His eyes moved to Grace and his smile widened.

  ‘Best taxi in Rio,’ he said with sincere conviction that I felt compelled to believe. How he knew my first language was English I do not know. Perhaps like the girl who served us at the beach bar before, taxi drivers in cities like Rio get a sense for knowing people’s nationality. Shirt choice aside his spoken English made him ideal.

  ‘What’s your name?’ I asked. The smile fell away and his eyes narrowed. It was probably a question only asked by the authorities. He studied me for a second and then studied Grace for longer. His brown, wary eyes found my face again.

  ‘You are tourists, no?’ he asked with the expectation of a man who already knew the answer to his own question.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘we’re tourists.’ The smile returned to his face, although with less enthusiasm, and then he removed the cigar from his mouth.

  ‘My name is Bruno,’ he said, ‘like the bear.’ As to which bear he was referring I was not sure, but he was right, “Bruno” was definitely a good name for a bear.

  ‘Well Bruno,’ I said, ‘I need you to take me to the Vidigal favela.’ Once again, his smile disappeared and this time, it was with the conjuring speed of a street magician.

  ‘No, no,’ he said and shook his head in a way that conveyed the wisdom known only to a local. ‘A favela is no place for tourists and soon it will be dark. No, no, you do not want to go to the favela, senhor. Let me take you to Centro or Santa Teresa. There, you will find music, bars and restaurants. At Lapa, you can dance the samba.’ By way of demonstration, Bruno swayed his hips. ‘These things you will not find at the favela, senhor.’

  From my pocket, I took a bundle of notes, opened the fold and counted out five. I held the cash invitingly close to Bruno’s face, so he could smell it. He looked at the money and then at me.